stasera
by PaleGreySky
Summary: "What would you have me say, Detective?" "...That I meant something to you. That I was more than just - a task. That you…that you feel the same way I do." [RK900/OC]
1. you cut me down

**NOV. 27 / 2039 / DETROIT, MICHIGAN**

Her heart rate is elevated. Blood flow to her face is making her cheeks turn pink. She paces a tight circle in front of him and he watches, expressionless, as she comes to a stop.

"I want-" She begins again, and goes silent as suddenly as that. Exhales harshly, rubbing at the back of her neck as she looks at her feet. Her glare softens as she raises her eyes to look at him. "Never mind what I want. What do you want?"

His response is automatic. "Nothing more than the success of this mission."

She laughs bitterly. "You know that's not what I mean."

He takes one step closer, frost crunching under his shoes, looming over her-she holds her breath as he leans down, mouth close to her ear. "What would you have me say, Detective?"

She bites her lip as he straightens, and he sees a bead of scarlet form as the chapped skin breaks. Her jaw twitches at the sting as she breathes in, and her exhale is a puff of white into the winter air.

"That I meant something to you. That I was more than just-a task. That you...that you..."

 _love me_

"...feel...the same way I do."

The air has grown cold and tight around the two of them as her voice trails off. He sees her fists clench and then relax, fingertips pink from the cold. Her breath shudders out of her lungs in a cough; a brief scan turns up a 67% possibility that she has been infected with a rhinovirus in the past 48 hours. He can see the column of her throat move down in a swallow, the almost imperceptible shiver that runs down her shoulders as the temperature drops further.

He waits.

Behind her, the streetlights flicker on, illuminating the empty street down the lane.

"Fuck, just say-something!" Her voice breaks on the last syllable.

His LED flickers red for a brief moment. She notices. She takes a step forward.

"I was built to be… a controlled variable. Designed as one last safehold for humankind, should Connor have failed to… terminate the android insurrection. There are over fifteen hundred anti-deviancy subroutines written into my coding."

And she's slipping. The exhaustion of the past day is catching up to her. The exhaustion of her recovery, the bandages on her side. Something flickers over his artificial synapses as she blinks, slower than usual-as he hears her heartbeat dip just a little bit, a soft murmur. He wonders if she will make it home safely, at this time of night. The LED on his temple shines red again.

"Just a machine." It doesn't sound like an insult-it wasn't meant to be one. She just sounds... tired.

He breathes in again, though he does not know why, artificial lungs filling with her scent and the cold, thin smell of a coming snowstorm.

 _Fragrances detected: Earl Grey tea, cedar wood, ginger._

"I am not deviant, like RK800. Nor will I ever be."

She inhales sharply at those words, knowing what he means but cannot say out loud.

And then again as he hears her breath hitch, when he sees her hand jerk upwards to cover her own mouth, frozen fingers pressed tight against her lips. Her eyes have grown wet, dimly reflecting the orange half-light of the streetlamps. And he desires-he wants, more than anything, to touch her face, to hold her close to him again, to comfort her. Wants to make her pain go away.

He does not.

Instead, he watches as she stiffens, shoulders straightening, and exhales. The tension drops from her neck, and all of a sudden, she looks tired to the very depths of her soul.

A gust strengthens, blowing past the pair. His blazer lifts with the wind, and she hunches over only slightly, hand coming down to touch the healing wound at her side. Her chin trembles, face twisted with still unshed tears. She turns to leave.

The apology feels inadequate even before it is simulated by his vocal modulator.

"I'm sorry."

He hears her speak, voice nearly torn away by the wind. Already distant.

"Yeah, well…So am I."


	2. half empty, half full

Connor takes one look at me the second I walk past the turnstiles into the bullpen, and offers an apologetic frown.

"I'm sorry."

I purse my lips as I head over to my desk to place my coat and bag down. "Don't be. He… it was his choice, anyways. Can't hold that over him."

Connor's LED has turned yellow by the time I look over at him, and the pity in those brown eyes is too much.

"Don't…" I sigh and look away. "Please don't look at me like that."

His head tilts to the side and I see him open his mouth to reply, to offer more words of consolation, but he's interrupted as the glass door to the captain's office opens and Fowler steps out.

"Listen up, everybody!" The captain scans the room, waiting for the morning chatter to quiet down. "As we all know, the revolution brought about a lot of good for our country and for our communities. But there has been a notable increase in tensions between humans and androids. Currently, we're dealing with one of the most massive waves of andro-homicide in the history of this precinct-in our city. We have seen the worst humanity has to offer in Detroit." He pauses.

"Now, to aid with this increase in android hate crime, the higher-ups have given us, as a gesture of good will, the latest prototype in the RK series. Everyone, meet RK900."

 **NOV. 28 /** ** _2038_ ****/ DETROIT, MICHIGAN**

"This is it," Hank mutters, to my side, as Fowler continues. "I'm losing my fuckin' mind."

And I'm left speechless as well. Because Connor-who's also sitting next to Hank-is walking over to stand below Fowler. But he's not Connor. Not quite, because something about him seems different. He looks taller, for starts. He even seems to stand straighter than Connor does-thought, post-deviancy, Connor's picking up a lot of Hank's habits, and that includes strangely "human" quirks like slouching more often and anxious fidgeting.

This android, however, looks anything but nervous. He looks so very detached it's like he's just stepped out of one of those old Cyberlife commercials back from 2020. He doesn't smile when Fowler gestures to him, only managing a single nod. _Imposing_ , is the word that comes to mind, and it settles with comfortable, almost pleasing accuracy. Hands folded behind his back, the new android scans the room.

"Lia, pay attention."

I turn to scowl at Connor for calling me out but I quickly straighten when, out of the corner of my eye, the android's gaze comes to rest on me. When I dare to look up again, he's still staring at the two of us, his LED yellow, and I realize what had caught me off-guard to begin with. His eyes are distinctly unfamiliar; not the warm dark brown-the friendliness that I'm used to. His gaze is the sky before a storm, cold and bright and piercing.

I look away.

"-Now, I'm expecting no fucking horseplay around it, alright?" He levels us all with a glare. "Dismissed."

I swivel my chair towards my station, but then Fowler points at me. "Day, in my office."

* * *

The captain sighs once I take a seat in front of his desk. "It's good to see you back. I know these past few days haven't been… easy on you, to say the least." His tone sounds gruff, disaffected authority seeping into the sigh in his voice, but his eyes are tired when he looks up at me, and I know that he's trying to offer comfort in his own way.

"I'm happy to be back, sir. Is there something you needed me in here for?"

"Yes, actually." He clears his throat and gestures behind me-it's only then that I notice the third occupant in the room. The RK900 is standing close to the right wall, hands folded behind his back, completely silent. He's staring forward in a strange show of obedience, contrasting so obviously with his build and his piercing gaze.

"Now, you may not like what I'm about to say, but don't interrupt me." Fowler sighs. "Meet your new partner."

It takes a moment for his words to sink in. "What?"

He raises a hand. "I said, don't interrupt me. You heard what was going on out there. We're getting flooded. Seeing how… admirably you performed with Anderson and Connor, I thought it would only be fitting to give it...give him to you." As if it'll make his demand better, Fowler adds, "He's state-of-the-art, Day."

Hesitation slows my response. "...Yeah, no, I get that. But still-I mean, it's just my first day back. There's a lot on my mind, I need time to… think. Isn't there someone else?"

The captain sighs and leans forward, elbows resting on his desk. "Listen. You're the best we've got right now, and you'd better fuckin' believe it. I'm sorry to say that I've given you all the time I can, for your brother's sake, but this city is going to shit and we need all the help we can get." Frustration is beginning to color his tone; he jerks a thumb towards the android behind me, and I can't help but glance back. The ice in his eyes is unnerving. "Look, Day, you think I want to give it to someone like Reed? He'd sooner make it bite the curb than even talk to it, let alone bring it on a case. It's yours, for the time being. You understand me, detective?"

"Yes, sir." I stand up. "Will that be all?"

Fowler frowns at the look on my face. "I know you still have your… family emergency going on. But there's work to be done, and, well…" He shakes his head and leans back into his seat, beginning to rearrange his files. "Just, take it with you where you go. Show it the ropes." A notification pops up on his screen and he turns towards his terminal, already distracted.

"Of course. Thank you, Captain."

"There's a new case waiting for you on your desk, and your vic's in the morgue. Get to it."

The android follows me as I walk away from Fowler's desk.

* * *

Please review/favs! love u! night night


	3. all of my witnesses

He's not Connor. That thought strikes me again, and uncomfortably so, because I'm unnerved by how differently I see the two in my mind, despite their uncanny similarity. One's designed for full-on human integration, with a demonstrative social relations program built in-hell, Connor's already human, really. The other, not so much. He hasn't spoken a single word to me since our meeting just a few moments ago, and I recall with a smile how earnestly Connor had introduced himself to Hank, to me-hell, to the whole precinct-the first day he showed up.

Passing by the bullpen, I'm stunned by the sheer number of people flooding into the station. The murmur of voices bubbles down the corridor into the main room. Only half-past nine and already I can barely see the end of a line curving around the waiting area, androids and humans alike. Families and couples and tired individuals, slouching where they sat, waiting for their cases to be filed. But a familiar face appears in the crowd. Gavin's already grumbling to himself as he moves skittishly through the gathering, one hand holding a cup of coffee.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, don't give me that look," he mutters angrily when he notices me staring. "Car broke down. I'm late, so what? Fuckin' sue me."

"Uh. Nice to see you too, Gavin."

He straightens suddenly, noticing the figure standing behind me like an ominous shadow. "Well. They got you one too, huh?"

I sigh. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Whatever." He stomps away, giving a rather suspicious sidelong glance to the android standing behind me.

I turn to RK900. "Sorry about Gavin. He's… not so used to androids yet." I trail off, looking away towards where said person is now getting into an argument with Hank about being late. "By the way, I'm Ophelia." I stick my hand out and RK900 reaches forward to shake my hand. "It's nice to meet you. Sorry about the, uh, what I said back in the Captain's office. It's just been a rough couple of days."

He nods politely, completely expressionless. "It's no issue, Detective Day."

 _Christ._ Even his voice is slightly deeper. Cyberlife must've really held true to their promise that Connor was a prototype- the android standing behind me seems to be more physically formidable in every way.

Shaking my head, I quickly grab the file on my desk. "C'mon, let's go to the morgue. We can brief once we get a closer look at our victim."

Another silent nod. We head out of the bullpen, and it seems like RK900 must've already had a map of the precinct uploaded, because he's several steps ahead of me already, into the hallway.

"Hey, uh… I don't mean to sound too forward, but you aren't exactly… designed as a civilian model, right?"

"You are correct, Detective. The RK900 line had dual intentions to be used in the civilian and armed forces spheres. I am military grade." He seems to notice that I'm nearly jogging to keep up with his pace, and he slows down slightly. "Is there anything else you would like to ask me?"

"Do you have a name? Something I can call you?"

"I am designated model RK900 serial number #313-248-317-93."

I laugh softly. "No, I meant like...a name. Letters and stuff."

That seems to make him pause; his LED flashes very briefly to yellow. "No. I was not given a name when the deviant leader Markus found me in storage. If it would please you, you may name me, Detective Day."

I balk at his offer. "What- no, of course not. That's…important. You're supposed to choose it for yourself, right?"

RK900 seems to look at me strangely, but then he glances away, apparently indifferent. "Of course, Detective."

We take the steps down to the basement floor, walking down the hallway past the evidence room. I squeeze the file in my hands and then push open the door to the morgue, the android trailing behind me.

The space is well-lit, bright fluorescent lights shining down on the four steel tables in the center of the lab. Two are occupied-one a human body, the 'Y' cut on her chest cavity neatly sewn up. The other holds the body of android female, her legs detached from her torso.

Dr. Lansky looks up from his desk as I walk towards him. "Morning, Detective, how can I help you?"

"Hey, Charles. We're here for the body of the man brought in last night, uh…" I flip open the file, searching for the name. "Oh. The John Doe?"

"Ah, yes. Right this way." He walks over to the wall and unlocks a cabinet, sliding out the table. The body of a man is noticeable by the outline of his features on the white cloth. I scan the rest of the limited info about the Doe as Lansky leans forward and pulls the sheet back.

"We still have some of his things here, haven't moved it to the evidence room yet." He motions over to another table off to the side-a stack of neatly-folded clothes and a pair of shoes. I flip through the second page as the doctor prepares the body for examination. RK900 moves to stand beside me, his gaze fixed on the file as well.

The vic: middle-aged asian male, late 40s. Five-nine, brown eyes, black hair. Dressed for work-though it was past 2 in the morning when he was brought in today.

"There's really no R&I?" I ask off to the side, vaguely distracted as I skim down the checklist.

RK900 responds. "No. The victim has not yet been identified."

"Huh. Have we scheduled an autopsy yet?"

Lansky rolls over a metal tray-table. "Yes. I'll be starting at noon. Though, Connor already came in this morning to do a small background. I don't know if he's sent the info to you."

"Cause of death is blunt trauma asphyxiation. I have already located Connor's records on the database." RK900 says, and turns to look at me as he continues. "The distance from the park to the station, coupled with signs of muscle degradation and rigor mortis, would appear to place his time of death at 9:40 PM the previous night, with a margin of error of 15 minutes."

"And his attire…" I pace around the table. "Suit and tie, slacks, oxfords. We don't have an ID card for a workplace. Do we have a wallet, or business card?"

"No." I glance up to see that his stare is affixed on the victim's neck and upper chest; his LED is blue, spinning faster than usual.

"Uh… Thanks, Charles, we'll handle it from here."

The doctor nods. "Of course. Call me when you're done."

"Sure thing."

I direct my next question towards my new partner. "Do you think he was taken on his way to work, or coming back?"

He pauses briefly, LED a blue circle on his temple. "Non-fatal impact wounds and bruising on his legs and upper chest are less than 12 hours old, which means they occurred late last night." Reaching forward, he lifts the sheet, exposing the victim's knees and calves. "Slight increased blood flow to his lower limbs also proves that he had been sitting for the better part of a day prior to the incident. Lack of abrasion wounds on his wrists and ankles means that he had not been tied down to a chair, either. I would say that he had finished a day of work before he was taken."

I silently applaud him, though I don't know why I would have expected anything below the bar. "Okay, so we can check workday records for the corporations in the area. What do you think we're looking at now? Regular homicide?"

He paces around to the victim's upper body and pauses, running another scan. A look of self-satisfaction appears on his face. "Fingerprints on the neck, torso, and arms belong to one Anthony Crassera, enforcer, whose last known location was New York City."

"I thought we couldn't lift prints from skin?"

He levels me with a look and I cross my arms defensively. "Detective. I am superior to my previous model in every way, shape, or form. The human body post-mortem does not perspire, as I'm sure you're well aware of. Given this, and the latent humidity in the air, I can scan for residual fingerprints on skin. I ran a cross-sectional check on the police database and ID'd Crassera." There's something like amusement in his silvery eyes. "Now, what would you say happened, Detective?"

He wants to see me trip up-he looks almost smug, and for the first time in a long time, I internally curse Cyberlife for creating these horribly perfect beings. At least Connor wasn't so blatant about it. My own inferiority complex can fuck off.

"I would say that Crassera never operates alone, not without his men. I'd say that I find it strange that his are the only prints on the vic." I cross my arms defensively.

"Are you insinuating android involvement?"

"Trauma wounds on the torso don't have fingerprints but they would match blunt trauma from hands and fists. And… Crassera's also a contract. This must've been a hit by someone higher up." Realization dawns on me, and I grimace. "I think we've got ourselves a mob case."

His face is composed, blank. "Good. Then we're in agreement."

"Great." I wince, hoping my disappointment didn't come through. Looking away from the intensity of his gaze, I quickly shuffle the papers in my hands and take a step back from the table. "Well, I guess I'll, uh... I'll call the doc back in, see if he can put our vic to bed. Can you send out an APB for Crassera? We've got probable cause, but...if it's the mob, we can't scare him yet."

"Of course." His LED flickers as he presumably delivers out the request. Then, to my utter surprise, RK900 looks at me- and smiles, for the first time I've seen, and it's a small, closed-mouth thing, nearly a smirk, but his eyes appear so goddamn pleased and bright that I nearly drop the file in shock. "I'm satisfied to be working with someone of your capabilities, Detective Day."

With that, he turns and leaves the morgue, leaving me standing there in dazed incredulity.

* * *

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	4. two riders were approaching

**NOV. 30 / 2038 / DETROIT, MICHIGAN**

One moment he's in standby mode, processors having closed most of his tasks so that he could conserve energy and thirium flow. The next, he feels awareness creep over his audio unit, picking up on the barest sounds in his room. Two floors down, someone is shifting in their bed. Outside, three blocks away, a bus picks up speed.

He opens his eyes to his apartment.

It's a bare 535 square feet. A single refrigerator in the empty kitchen to store sensitive biocomponents and packs of thirium. An empty bookshelf to his left, sofa to his right. His apartment is spartan, though he wouldn't have anything else. He wouldn't need anything else.

RK900 lifts his hand, feeling the synthetic muscle in his right arm shift in response as his internal machinery whirrs to life. The time is 5:27:56 AM, EST. Weather forecast today indicates a partly cloudy morning and a 53% chance of afternoon showers. Temperature range of 51oF to 42oF.

Wintry sunlight is filtering through the half-closed curtains to his left. He blinks, optical unit adjusting to the brightness as he walks over to the window and pulls the curtains apart. Outside, the city is beginning to awaken as well, lit up by the pale pink of sunrise cresting over the horizon. He adjusts his collar, straightens and smoothes out his blazer and shirt as he watches a car drive by.

He has nearly two hours remaining before he should depart for the precinct. He uses the time to file an extra report on his internal diagnostics, checking the efficiency of his framework, thirium levels and processing power.

The detective is an interesting conundrum. He spends a few moments on that as well, wondering how best to approach her. The conversation they had in the morgue had been less than optimal; at one point, he detected anger in her tone, and her heart rate had unfortunately still increased even when he successfully executed a program out of millions present in his social relations module-a smile and a compliment to her work-proving his hypothesis that he likely needs more time to practice his social integration.

Three picoseconds is enough to calculate the projected efficiency of their partnership, a sound 89%. It is a pleasing statistic. She seems to be capable enough, though he can still detect some level of wariness when she's around him. She does not seem to at the same way around his predecessor, the RK800. He can only attribute this to a longer time duration. Hopefully, with time, their working relationship will strengthen.

A prompt pops up in the corner of his vision. Her brother. He retrieves the video file from the other day, parsing back over Fowler's words in his office.

"-given you all the time I can, for your brother's sake, but-"

"-for your brother's sake-"

Curiosity impinges on the back of his artificial cranium, the feeling artificial and sudden. He blinks. His LED flickers briefly.

RUN SEARCH: FAMILY OF _DET. OPHELIA DAY_

3 RESULTS: SARNE, CARLOTTA (MOTHER)

DAY, THOMAS (FATHER)

DAY, JUSTIN (BROTHER)

RUN SEARCH: JUSTIN DAY PUBLIC RECORD

3 RESULTS:

(6.11.2033) PUBLIC MISDEMEANOR

(4.23.2034) PUBLIC MISDEMEANOR

(11.26.2038) ATTEMPTED MURDER OF ANDROID AP400 MODEL #480-913-528

That would explain her reported one week leave from the precinct. She must have gone as a character witness. Given the circumstances, she seems calmer than he would have expected-not indifferent to the situation, but certainly not...despondent. And he had not observed any visible animosity towards androids-in fact, she had taken on and closed four separate android hate crime-related cases in the past month. A conclusion slowly lights up in the center of his HUD.

THE DETECTIVE IS NOT CLOSE TO HER BROTHER

He stores the information and the results of his search away into a new folder. At 7:55 AM, he arrives at the precinct.

* * *

Much to my chagrin, our case was seemingly going nowhere. So far, the most progress we've made is that forensics got a hit for our victim from a missing persons report that was filed two days after we got the body from the man's place of work. His manager and coworkers at CPA Financial insisted that the victim-47 year old Desmond Yang-was respected and well-liked, no enemies of any sort. They each have airtight alibis. Another dead end.

And on the other side, the warrant we have going for Anthony Crassera is being run by patrol and our friends outside metro Detroit, but he's ghosted since his last appearance a few months ago in New York.

By the time I get to the precinct at 8, the android is already waiting at my desk. His LED blinks as he hovers over my terminal, and the screen comes to life. Hearing me walk over, he turns around, hands now folded behind his back.

"Good morning, Detective Day."

"G'morning to you too, RK900." I blink and rub at my eyes as I head over to the desk. A yawn escapes me and I cover my mouth, hooking the strap of my bag over the chair.

"A new lead just came in ten minutes ago, a reported sighting of Crassera at a local bar downtown. I suggest we review the file immediately." He notices me yawn again, and tilts his head to the side. "Have you not been sleeping well, Detective?"

"Ha." At his look of confusion, I realize he's asking a serious question. "I'm fine. Just a little tired, is all."

"Would you like me to get you a cup of coffee?"

"Uh, nah, that's okay. I don't drink coffee. Appreciate the offer, though."

"Tea, perhaps?"

He's nothing if not persistent, probably having decided that my wellbeing was 'optimal to the success of the mission'. I shrug. "Sure."

"Is there a flavor you would prefer?"

"I dunno. Surprise me."

"Of course, Detective."

* * *

RK900 directs his path to the breakroom. The command SURPRISE THE DETECTIVE doesn't really seem to make much sense to him, coming up with all a manner of conflicting results that would seem to do her more harm than good, and so he decides to make do by choosing a drink that she'll enjoy.

He selects a tea and pulls out the tissue sachet containing dried leaves of ANALYSING: Camellia Sinensis. Her travel mug is located in the shared cupboard. He pours in exactly 12.0 fluid ounces of water, heated to 98 degrees Celsius.

He notes that the detective is already reviewing the lead at her desk.

The scent of ANALYZING: Citrus Bergamia begins to waft up as orange blooms out from the sachet. Two flat spoons of sugar; a splash of cream-approximately 2.4 fluid ounces, given the resulting water displacement. He waits another two minutes until a prompt appears in his display, informing him that he is allocating more time than necessary to this menial task. But hopefully the detective will enjoy the drink and subsequently be in a better frame of mind to proceed with the case.

He brings the travel mug back to her station, just as she closes the folder and stands up to grab her coat and bag.

"Oh. Thanks." She accepts the drink and takes a tentative sip. Her mouth puckers a little, and he wonders briefly if he had steeped the tea for too long-but then her face perks up.

"This is good! What is this?"

He can't help the note of satisfaction that curls into his voice as the command on his HUD flashes once and then fades. "Earl Grey. I'm glad you enjoy it, Detective."

"Thanks, dude. Wow." She takes another sip and sets the mug down as she shrugs on her coat. "Okay, so, I've looked through the info. The drive shouldn't take more than fifteen minutes, and I think it looks pretty promising. Sound good?"

RK900 nods. "Ready when you are, Detective."

* * *

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	5. what's done is done

The bar is empty this early in the morning. A bartender, busy cleaning off the counter with a rag, looks up when we walk in.

"Hi. Can I help you two?" Her gaze automatically slides to the LED at RK900's temple, and then the bright blue triangle on his chest.

I quickly flash my badge. "No worries, ma'am. We're just here to ask a few questions."

She scans me up and down before her eyes dart back over to the figure standing behind me. "What's it doing here?"

"He's with me. Are you the owner, Darlene Fineman?"

"Yeah, I am."

"Detective Ophelia Day, I'm with the Detroit PD. This is my partner, RK900."

She frowns, suspicious. "What kinda questions you asking?"

"We're just looking for someone. A suspect." Fineman finally sets the rag down and walks out as I pull the picture from my pocket. "Do you recognize this man?"

Fineman squints at the headshot, and her face darkens. "Yeah. He was in this week."

"Did something happen?"

"He and his buddies were messing with the girls." At my look of confusion, she clarifies, "Some of my employees. They were harassing 'em. I was going to kick them out. Why, he a drug dealer?"

"Something like that." I lean forward. "Listen, Ms. Fineman, I'm going to need you to do a favor for us. Can you let him back in tonight?"

"Why should I let him back in? He's caused nothing but trouble for me and my establishment."

Suddenly, I feel a presence looming behind me. "Mrs. Fineman, this man is a wanted criminal and suspect for murder in the city of Detroit. If you do not comply with us, the detective and I will be forced to take you to the precinct for further questioning as to your involvement in the case."

She's tensed up by the time my partner finishes, and I quickly raise my hands. "Wait, hold on. What my partner is trying to say is that…we would greatly appreciate it if you would help us take him down. You'd be doing a great service for our community. Keeping the streets safer."

Fineman levels me with a look, but then she shrugs. "Fine."

"And, of course, me and him," I gesture to RK900 standing behind me, "we'll be around tonight as well. We'll make sure to keep things lowkey."

She seems placated, for the most part, but a short laugh escapes her. "What, with this android? No one's gonna like him, trust me."

"I guess we'll see tonight. Thank you for your time, Ms. Fineman."

"Yeah. Tonight." She heads back behind the counter, and RK900 turns to go.

I glance towards him and sigh, before quickly hurrying behind him. "C'mon. What was that for?" He waits patiently, holding the door open for me. I'm frustrated enough that I shoulder past him into the street before I finally look back. "They program some sort of hair-trigger intimidation module into you?"

RK900 nods. "Something of the sort. I had deemed it necessary to pressure Fineman into accepting our conditions."

"Christ. Just…" I squint towards the road, towards the pale sunlight. "Just don't pull something like that again, okay? No matter how… I dunno, it's just not gonna make people happy, okay?"

"Noted, Detective."

* * *

It's nearly noon-11:47:06, to be precise, when the detective and RK900 exit the establishment. She's still irritated from his actions in the bar, and so he doesn't say more to her even as she blatantly moves to jaywalk across the road. In half a millisecond, he scans the surrounding cars headed up and down the street, calculating their distance and speed in order to make sure that she will not be hit.

She steps down onto the pavement and he follows behind her. A bicycle whizzes past her and he has half an urge to push the detective aside to safety, but she easily sidesteps the cyclist and continues to the parked Tesla Model 3.

Reaching for the keys in her pocket, she tilts her head towards the passenger door. "C'mon. Get in the car, Batman."

RUN SEARCH: UNKNOWN TERM _BATMAN_

He pauses upon seeing the results, and turns to look at her over the hood of the car. "A puzzling misconception, Detective. I am not a fictional comic book vigilante." Is the detective perhaps more sleep-deprived than he had thought?

She laughs, sounding strangely relieved as the tension drops from her shoulders. "It's... whatever, man. You get what I mean."

"I'm sure I do not." He gets into the passenger side anyways and closes the door. The detective turns on the ignition and taps on the screen as the car comes to life.

"So," she continues, as she turns towards the road. "What do you think about Fineman?"

"I do not believe she is an accessory to the case, if that's what you mean."

"Yeah." The lane recognition engages, and she sits back, hand loose on the steering wheel. "Do you think you'll be okay tonight? With what she said?"

"Discrimination against androids is a punishable offense in the United States. Especially so here in Detroit."

She turns to look at him. "But these people are still gonna turn a blind eye if something does happen, in a bar nonetheless."

"Eyes on the road, Detective. And you don't need to worry about me. I have the means to defend myself."

"Huh. I'm sure you do."

* * *

He's still following behind me, gaze scanning around the two of us. I tighten the hoodie around my neck and surge forward past a throng of people, listening to his footsteps behind me. Already, people are giving him looks-the whole android outfit, the LED on his temple and the naturally intimidating set to his shoulders.

"May I inquire as to where we are going, Detective Day?"

"Grabbing a lunch. I, uh… Sorry, I don't suppose you eat, right? Might be a waste of time for you, if that's alright."

The android merely adopts a look of polite neutrality on his face. "Any opportunity to learn more information is not wasted. I would like to get to know you better, Detective, and I suppose this is as good as any time for us to talk."

"Sure. Yeah, well, if we're going to talk, you don't have to bother tiptoeing around. I know you've already done a scan. Same thing Connor did the first day he showed up at the precinct."

That makes him pause, and I imagine he's restructuring his conversational approach; that thought makes me laugh a little. We round the corner and come up to the sandwich shop.

"Have you met Connor yet?"

He seems to perk up a bit at the change in topic. "I did talk to my predecessor when we were both in the break room. He speaks highly of you. He seems very happy that I'm here at the DPD…excited to get to know me better." RK900 furrows his brow and leans closer to me. "Is he always like this?"

I grab the Reuben from the counter and head towards the back to get a table. "Connor's always a little eager to make new friends. Probably sees you as...I dunno. As family, I guess. Even before the revolution, I've never-" I laugh. "I've never met an android who tried to...engage like that."

He looks confused, still processing my words. My smile softens, and I look down.

"So, uh, what I meant to say earlier is… Is there anything else you wanted to know about me?"

RK900 tilts his head to the side after a moment.

"The captain referred to your brother during the course of your conversation yesterday morning. May I ask what happened?"

"Oh. I uh…" I set my sandwich down. "His name is Justin. Two weeks ago I, well, I got a call from the NYPD. He'd been arrested for…" I sigh and look away. "For attempting to murder an android. And, so, they put him into the system and found me, and naturally they needed me as a character witness. So that's why I was gone, earlier."

RK900 remains silent. His LED is blue.

I shake my head. "And I-of course, I don't…I mean, I...Justin and I had a falling apart because of his ideologies, before he left for NYU. We never had an android in the house because he would terrorize them when he was younger." I look up again. "Sorry. Sorry if this is, uh. I mean, you're an android, and this…"

"It sounds like this was bothering you, Detective."

"Yeah, tell me about it. I just hope that I'm doing something good here, you know. Make up for his...mistakes, or whatever."

He tilts his head to the side. "It is not your duty or obligation to...atone for your brother's issues. What's done is done. And you have performed admirably at the DPD, if your record is anything to go by."

I sigh. "Yeah. I suppose. Thanks, man. I appreciate it."

The sandwich wrapper crumples in my hands as he stands to go. "Ready, Detective Day?"

I squint up at him, against a flare of light from a passing car, and smile. "You can call me Ophelia, y'know. Or Lia, if it helps."

"Alright. Ophelia."

"Let's get going."

* * *

Don't forget to favorite/review/smash that mf like button


	6. no, thank you

WARNINGS: [roofie mention / vague rape mention implied. Everyone is safe, though.]

* * *

[unknown number]: _When will you arrive at the bar?_

I blink, staring at the notification before I grab my phone from the kitchen counter.

 **Who is this?**

 _My apologies, Detective, this is RK900. I got your cell phone number off of the police database._

 _We should stagger our arrival to the bar tonight to prevent any suspicion_

 **ill prob get there at 10:00**

I watch the typing bubble blink on the screen and take the moment to add him to my contacts.

[RK900]: _Then I will arrive at 10:10._

 **sounds good**

* * *

I park half a block away from the bar, and quickly zip up my jacket against the bitter cold, wind biting against my fingertips. The music grows louder as I approach the low light at the entrance-something old, from the 2010s, I'd guess.

Inside, the place is packed with the Friday night crowd. Darlene nods to me as I pass by the counter, where the air is uncomfortably thick with the smell of spilled beer. I make my way through to the back. There's an old couch against the back wall, overly stained and reeking of cigarette smoke, but it's a good enough vantage point-secluded and angled slightly towards the main venue. I settle down.

No one in the bar thus far seems to be our suspect-5'9", mid-30's, dark hair, brown eyes, heavyset brow and scruff, though that's probably because about a third of the occupants, at least from first glance, fit the description.

I'm debating on whether or not I should head closer to the bar when I feel someone approach me from behind.

"Hey."

"Oh. Hello."

RK900 moves to sit down at the far end of the couch. He's holding a drink, which he sets down on the worn table in front of me, before he crosses his legs and leans back. In the darkness, I can barely make out what he's wearing-civvies, all dark colors. A black button-down shirt, collar loose around his throat, and a pair of grey jeans. He looks… wow, he looks normal. Human, even.

He adjusts the sleeves of his shirt, tapping his foot idly to the beat of the music.

I look back down at my phone as a notification pops up.

[RK900]: _Have you located the suspect?_

He's not holding a cellphone. Realization dawns on me, and I risk a glance at him. RK900's LED is blinking.

 **no. multiple matches**

 **did you run a scan of the room**

In my peripheral, his head tilts to the side.

 _Scanning now._

Just then, a waitress walks over, balancing a tray with a myriad of violent neon-colored drinks on it. She sets a coaster down in front of me, and places a cut crystal glass on it. Cream swirls down to mix with something dark amber at the bottom of the drink.

"Oh." I smile at her. "Sorry, I didn't order this."

The waitress shakes her head and points to our right. "The gentleman at the bar did."

As she moves away, I turn just in time to see Crassera raise his glass and wink at me.

Fuck.

Caught off-guard, I quickly fake a smile before turning back around. Nines glances away, towards a group chattering loudly to our side.

 **do you think he knows it's us?**

Silence. Suddenly, he grabs the drink and takes a sip. He stiffens, LED hesitating for a painfully long moment on yellow.

 _No. I don't believe he knows._

 **?**

In the corner of my eye, he slowly sets the drink back down on the table. New messages pop onto my phone in rapid succession.

 _The drink was laced with benzotriazepine. A date rape drug manufactured in 2031._

 _Effects start to take place within 5-10 minutes._

"Motherfucker," I whisper under my breath. But, as much as it sickens me, it's a way in.

 **let me take this one**

 **ill go introduce myself**

I begin to stand, but Nines stops me, one hand on my knee, the couch blocking Crassera's visual. His gaze is locked on mine, grey eyes bright in the darkness of the club.

I nod once.

He lets go, and I turn and walk towards the bar. Directly ahead, Crassera straightens when he notices me.

"Hey," I smile, feigning nervousness. "I, uh, the waitress said that you ordered that for me…"

"I'm Mike," Anthony Crassera murmurs, holding his hand out.

"Mackenzie," I say, shaking his hand.

"So," he exhales, turning back to the bar. "Who's the plastic?"

I slide onto the seat next to him. "What do you mean?"

"The android over there." He nods towards Nines' direction. "What's it doing with you?"

"Oh." I barely glance back, and shrug. "Don't know him. Why, d'you think that it's making moves on me?"

Crassera laughs. "No, I don't suppose so, sweetheart."

I sigh inwardly, leaning into it. "And, I mean, besides, if I get a boyfriend, he has to be human, alright, not some plastic dick." It is worth noting, though, the fact that someone so openly against androids could be found in league with them, given the evidence we got off of Yang's body. I store the information away for later, as he snorts at my remark.

"I like that kind of thinking, babe. C'mon, I'll get you another drink. Hey, lady!" He waves Darlene over, who approaches with a scowl on her face. "Two shots of whiskey."

As soon as Darlene finishes pouring, he knocks one back, and slides the other towards me. "Go on."

It burns going down. I blink, feeling the heat of alcohol my tongue, and inhale sharply. "Ah. That was kinda, uh…"

"Good, huh?"

I laugh . "Uh. Sure. I really haven't had a drink in a long time, Mike."

"You're kidding me. Pretty girl like you, in a bar all alone? I'm sure plenty of guys have bought you drinks."

And he's getting a little too close, though I try to keep myself from leaning back. "Not really, no. You're the first, in some time."

"Some time, huh?" The grin on his face is tipsy and uncomfortably leery. I steer away.

"So, uh, what brings you here?" I tap my fingers on the bar. There's a knotted scar on his forearm. Attempted rape and robbery, 2034. He glances at me and smirks.

"Well, you know. I had some business here. But tonight is about pleasure."

If it really is what he says it is, something big is starting back up in Detroit. If I could just find some more dirt on Crassera to indicate that this really is some sort of cartel between androids and the mafia, I'd risk having a target on my back to take it down. Otherwise I've got a run-of-the-mill mob case with the murder of some bystander at the wrong place and wrong time, and those always fall to corrupt officials who tie it up with miles of red tape.

I fake a flustered laugh and look away. "Well, thanks for the drink, Mike. I…really appreciate it."

"No problem. Say, what about I take you home? You seem tired."

There really is only one way this situation can turn out, though it makes me sick to my stomach that I'm playing right into his hands. But I have to get closer. The gun on my holster, hidden by the folds of my jacket, suddenly feels heavier.

"Oh, I dunno." I hesitate, fiddling with the corner of a napkin. I need to get back to Nines in one piece. "I need to get back to my, uh…" I trail off, letting my eyelids droop a little. "...my friends anyways."

If things get out of hand, then I'm pulling out as fast as possible and arresting him on the spot. I can't drop the ball on this one-I need to find some sort of indication of drug dealing, at least, or another murder.

"C'mon, babe." He suddenly places his hand on my knee, and I can't help but tense up a little. "Really. Let me take you home." That suggestive glint is back in his eyes as his hand slowly moves up to squeeze my thigh.

"Aw, Mike, you really...you really don't have to."

Suddenly, Crassera breaks off, demeanor changing in an instant. He straightens, looking behind me. "Excuse me."

A familiar voice responds. "Oh. I'm sorry. Is this seat taken?"

I turn around.

In the time while Crassera had been busy groping my thigh, Nines has slid into the adjacent seat. To my dismay, he's continuing to catch me off guard. If not for the LED, he would've seemed completely human.

But, as it turns out, in spite of Nines' current disposition, the LED is the only thing Crassera seems to notice, and as that goes, it means that Nines being here is making him suspicious.

Fuck.

"Fuckin' androids." Crassera shakes his head and chuckles, hand finally leaving my knee. "What's going on here, Mackenzie? Do you know this tin can, for real?"

"Of course not." I roll my eyes, but it's already too late. He's growing suspicious, eyes darting back and forth between me and Nines. I put my hand on his shoulder and soften my voice. "Hey, man,I thought tonight was going good…I thought we were enjoying ourselves."

The alcohol seems to have made up his mind, because he finally relaxes at that, giving a sidelong glance at Nines. "C'mon, then, let's get out of here, babe. I'm parked at the back."

Without further ado, he loops his arm around my waist and pulls me off of the bar seat. I have no choice but to follow. The back of my neck prickles, and I know that Nines is staring at me as we head out through the back door.

My phone buzzes in my pocket.


	7. make me deserve it

WARNINGS: canon-typical violence (blood, no gore)

* * *

It's starting to rain. His car is near the entrance of the alley, out towards the road.

"Get in. I'll get you home safe."

A shiver runs down my spine. If I get in the car with him, the chances of a clean exit without some sort of fight don't look too good. I need some way to see what he has inside his car without getting in. My mind is racing.

He's starting to get frustrated, tense already from meeting Nines. "C'mon. What's wrong with you? Get in!"

I sway a little, leaning heavily on the door of the car. "Sorry, I-Mike, I don't feel so good…" I dry-heave suddenly.

"Oh, Jesus fu-"

The position gives me the opportunity to look into the back seat of his car, and I double over, still acting nauseous. So far all I can see is that there's a plastic shopping bag stuffed with what appears to be some clothes, and a black toolbox on the seat. Some manila folders underneath the shopping bag. Something catches my attention. The grooves in his tires are caked in some sort of greyish-white grit. Clay?

"Don't throw up on my car, Christ… what a fuckin' turn-off…"

"Sorry- I…." I pretend to dry-heave again, leaning closer to the car window. The glare from the streetlight makes whatever's at the bottom of the back seat harder to see, and I squint my eyes.

"What the hell are you looking at?" Suspicion thick in his voice, he starts to come closer. I scramble to come up with some kind of explanation. But he cuts me off. "Hold on-what the hell is this?"

Crassera grabs something from my belt. I freeze, blood running cold.

He straightens, abruptly stepping back, and my eyes widen when I see the flash of my badge in his hand. He stares at it, brass gleaming in the streetlight. I start to back away from the car, cursing internally.

"Detective...Oh, you bitch!"

He throws the badge to the ground and pulls something out from his pocket as he strides forward, caging me into the alleyway. I hear the sound of a switchblade opening and scramble to pull my handgun from the holster on my waist, but he slams me up against the wall, knocking it from my grasp. The firearm clatters heavily, skidding across the alleyway.

"I should gut you right here, fuckin' narc," he snarls, breath hot in my face.

I feel the knife press against my stomach and lock my ankle around the back of his knee and kick in, shoving his chest back. He nearly topples over, but quickly rights himself, spitting curses. He charges forward, swinging at my face and I dodge, coming up to grab his forearm. My heel jams into his instep and he swears again, arm shaking with the effort as he tries to push the knife towards my face.

A grunt escapes me as he suddenly lets go, empty momentum hurtling me forward. His elbow crushes into my ribs and then his fist meets my face. I fall back, arms hitting the concrete behind me, tasting blood in my mouth.

In the shadows, I catch a flare of silver from above before pain explodes in my shoulder. I cry out, lurching to the side as Crassera jerks the switchblade free.

"Heh, gotcha. Shoulda sharpened it, huh, bitch?"

"You fucking sadist," I spit. The welt on the inside of my cheek is bleeding.

"And here I thought we were having a nice time, baby. But look at what you made me do to you."

"Fuck you. You're under arrest."

"Am I? No one's around to help you." He snickers. "Aw, sweetheart, don't look scared. I promise it won't last too long- Augh !" Crassera howls as I knee him in the crotch. As he doubles over, I race towards the back of the alley, scrambling to find my firearm on the ground.

Behind me, Crassera shouts in frustration. Sounds coming closer. "I'll kill you, police piece of shit," he snarls, advancing on me. I finally see the outline of my handgun and dive towards it.

His hand lands on my shoulder and I whirl around, gun pointed straight at his face. "Back it up, Crassera," I hiss, aim unwavering.

His eyes dart from the barrel of my gun to the alley entrance, and I growl. "Don't make me chase you, motherfucker."

And then the back door opens, casting a shaft of yellow light into the alleyway. Nines steps out, and Crassera swears, defeated.

"Fuck!" He tosses his knife to the ground. "You fucking cunt!"

"Shut up. Hey! Hey!" I jerk my gun towards him as Crassera glances shiftily at Nines, and then towards the street. "Hands where I can see them!" I wave my other hand at Nines, my jaw gritting at the pain. "Cuff him. Fuck," I grind out, hand reaching up to cup at my shoulder. The blood is soaking through my jacket.

For the briefest moment, RK900's eyes flit over to the wound on my shoulder. He surges forward, pushing Crassera into the wall and cuffing his wrists together in one move. "Anthony Crassera, you are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in court. You have the right to talk to a lawyer for advice before we ask you any questions. You have the right to have a lawyer with you during questioning. If you cannot…"

On the street, a blur of red and blue approaches, colors flashing down the length of the alleyway. My badge glints in the light and I lean down to pick it up off the ground, upset that I hadn't done a better job of hiding it. The blood on my hand smears on the brass, across the two stags and the shield, and I sigh. Shoving it into my pocket, I head towards the entrance.

Gavin is the first to exit as the car pulls up. "Lia, what the fuck is going on?" Behind him, I see another patrol car pull in. "The android called it in, said there was some kinda-" Both of us turn to look as RK900 hauls Crassera out of the alley and hands him to another officer. "Fuck, you're bleeding," Gavin continues abruptly.

"It's fine, Gavin."

"You're a weak-ass bitch and you know it. C'mon, where's the fucking ambulance?"

I raise a brow. "Oh, you already forgot your first aid training-"

"Apply pressure on the wound, Detective. Allow me to take over."

"Where'd you come from? Ow! Hey!" I stare as RK900 draws my hand away from my shoulder and then presses down on the cut. My jaw clenches. Gavin shoots me a look as he heads over to talk with the other officers.

"I gave Officer Chen a brief overview of the events and stored a more detailed report on the police database. I also took the liberty of sending the PDF to your phone." He presses down harder on the wound, and my eyes close as my whole body tenses in pain.

"Yeah, well, you should've taken the liberty of not rui - -"

"The ambulance is here," he interrupts me flatly. I turn to look and curse internally as the movement twists the muscle of my shoulder. True to his word, the vehicle's parked just a few cars away, and a paramedic is already rushing over to us.

"Ma'am, can I take a look at your injury?"

RK900 moves away, finally, and I scowl at him as he stands up straighter, hands coming to fold behind his back. The medic's LED whirrs bright yellow in the darkness as she leans in to examine the wound.

"2.2 inch laceration on her left shoulder. No major arteries." RK900 mentions.

She nods in affirmation. "Sounds right. Thanks for letting me know." She turns to me. "Now, I'm gonna have to cut away some of your jacket to get a closer look at it, is that okay?" Beside her, RK900 takes a disinfectant from the medical container and cleans off the blood on his hand.

"Ma'am?"

"Yeah, sure. Go check on the alley," I mutter to RK900. "I think Crassera dropped the knife."

"Of course." He glances again at the medic and then walks away across the street.

My shoulder twitches a little as she prods at the skin around the cut, and I wince.

"Okay, it's not too deep." The medic takes a small tube and squeezes out some clear green gel; the salve fizzes and glows as it's exposed to the air, and I tilt my head to the side as she applies it to the gash on my shoulder. "This is antibacterial, and it should also help with the bleeding."

"That's great. Ow." I wince again as the salve heats up against my skin.

"It's only a temporary fix, alright? I'd recommend you head over to the hospital tomorrow morning, urgent care. They'll give you some better treatment. We're…" She shakes her head, LED flashing yellow, and fixes a patch of gauze over my wound. "Our ambulances aren't fully supplied these days, with all that's going on. I'm sorry, I'm sure you understand."

"No, of course." I nod. "Thanks. I appreciate it."

"You got it." She finishes wrapping the gauze over my shoulder. "That should be it. Remember, hospital tomorrow morning, alright?"

"Yeah, sure." I sigh, relaxing as she finally moves away. Distantly, I can already see Gavin arguing with Tina about something, just as RK900 emerges from the alleyway, carrying a plastic evidence bag with Crassera's knife-still bloody-inside.

My legs are sore just from the fight, still, adrenaline making my throat tighten. Tentatively, I slide off of the hood of the car.

"Hey, Tina?"

She looks up from the touch-pad in her hands. "Yeah, what's up?"

"Are we done here?"

"Well, I mean, not really, but you're free to go." She glances at the gauze on my shoulder. "Yeah, you should go. You can write your report tomorrow, don't worry about it."

"Thanks." I fumble to grab my keys from my pocket, and head towards my car. "Night, Tina. Tell Gavin I said goodbye."

"Sure."

Once inside, I pull my phone from my pocket and open up my texts. Nines is the most recent contact, and I frown, noticing the last messages he sent me when I left with Crassera.

 _[RK900]: What are you doing?_

 _This isn't safe._

I frown. Though I can't really agree with the sentiment in his messages, he probably was… worried. I glance back towards the crime scene, trying to see if I can spot Nines leaving as well. But the android is instead standing by the curb looking rather lost. The rain is starting to fall harder now, making the streets gleam with neon light. And, for some reason or another, I roll down the passenger window.

"Nines! Do you need a ride?"

He pauses. "Yes. I would appreciate that. I arrived here by taxi."

I lean over and push open the passenger door as he finally walks over. "C'mon, get in."

He complies, and once he closes the door I sigh and roll my neck back, shifting to rub at the gauze on my shoulder. "Thought I told you I could handle it myself, man."

"I had deemed it necessary to step in." He's different again-back to his usual self, and I sigh.

"What program told you that, huh? Code and numbers can't give you the best assessment of a…" I sigh, and drop my hand from my shoulder. "Some of it is intuition."

"My assessment put you at a 68 percent risk of harm."

"Look, I'll take the-the sixty, okay? Being in this job-I mean, you could've scared him away, when you stepped in like that at the bar."

"I needed to make sure you were-"

"Safe?"

I shake my head, frustration beginning to color the tone of my words. "I was just...Nines, you know I could've handled the talk, right? I mean, he was… you suddenly jumping in at the bar was a huge red flag for him, when I'd already made it clear to him that we weren't associated. I just happened to be lucky that I did get him to trust me afterwards." His LED flickers, still blue, but I cut him off before he can butt in. "Look, yeah, I did get- stabbed, or whatever, but… at least we got him. He could've decided to just leave after what happened with you."

RK900 blinks, seemingly processing my words, before he turns to fully face me in the car. "If Crassera had ran, I would have given chase and caught him all the same." He pauses. "And your self-esteem is not worth damage to your physical health."

"Yeah, well-" I flush, staring out the window at the light pooling through the streaks of water. "Maybe it's not. But you have to respect my-you have to know that I can take care of a case. Hell, I've been doing fine by myself before you came in last week."

"You said it yourself. We're dealing with organized crime. It warrants an extra level of caution." He looks towards my shoulder, and for a strange moment I see his LED hover on yellow. "I am your partner. And I should not have let you get hurt tonight."

"Look. Wounds-bruises and cuts are okay. Means I'm-I dunno. Means I'm human. I've got things inside me that are fragile. And it's common to get injured in this line of work, you know. Not that big of a deal."

"Even so. I would appreciate it if we can work more closely together in the future. Especially in situations with physical altercations. Our lack of communication tonight is… disappointing."

He's right. As much as I hate it,I can tell that RK900 is right. He's not asking for much, either, so I relent. "Yeah. I know. I mean, I knew that we didn't plan this too well from the start. I know that. I just… sometimes you have to do what you have to do. I'm glad we got him. Just… if you could tell me beforehand, whatever you're planning, and I'll tell you."

"So let's work together, then. Neither of us will be out of the loop."

The way he just said it seems to make everything simpler, quelling the stream of thoughts running through my mind, and I can't help but sigh a little, ducking my head. "I'm sorry, you know? I just haven't had a partner in a long time, and I'm… I guess I'm readjusting to that, as well."

He nods. "That is perfectly understandable, Lia."

"Thanks." I smile.

Another pause. The silence is soothing, and I can finally hear the sound of the rain hitting the glass roof of my car, spilling over the windshield. Nines' hair is still wet, and his grey eyes are nearly luminous in the darkness. I look away.

"Well, uh, we've got a long ways to go ahead of us. I'll bet Crassera will have his attorney on our heels early tomorrow morning when we get to the precinct." I tap on the navigation panel and turn out onto the road. "Wouldn't expect anything less of them, even if it's an open-and-shut assault and battery."

"I overheard the paramedic mention that you should go to the hospital tomorrow morning."

"Yeah, well, I can't really afford to go." There's a halting silence after my words. "It's not like it's that big of a deal. I'll patch myself up when I get home."

He pauses, and then sighs. "I can accompany you to your residence. I am proficient in medical care and first aid, and I would like to take a closer look at your shoulder. An infection would be unfortunate."

I shrug, and wince at the pain in my shoulder caused by that movement. "You don't have to. I'll just drive you back to your home."

"I insist."

"Uh…" I cave all too quickly when another sting of pain drives through my shoulder blade. "Fine. Okay."

The light turns green and I drive ahead, past the washed-out lights of the downtown district. The ambulance behind is already distant, blue and red blurring to purple in the rearview mirror, cutting through the steel black of the city. And it's rather hollow and beautiful and still all at once, even with the heat in my shoulder that maybe (probably) does warn that I'm bleeding again into the gauze.

"What did you call me?"

I turn. "What?"

"Earlier. You called me 'Nines'. What was that?"

"Oh! I, uh… I dunno. You just seemed so different. Like you were…" I catch myself staring at him again. He's sitting stiffly, now, in the passenger seat, but he looks...tired, somehow. Warmer. I shrug, forgetting yet again that my shoulder is injured. "Ow. I, uh...I guess I just made that up on the spot."

"I see." He glances at me, and then looks back down, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt. "Shall I register it as my name?"

That catches me off guard. "You don't have to, if you don't want to. I mean, it's not official."

"Hmm." He lapses into silence once again, and I relax back into the driver's seat, thoughts awash with diffuse blue light, flickering calmly in the darkness.

"Not very creative, is it?"

I startle, turning quickly to catch the tail-end of a smirk curling the corner of his mouth, and snort. "Shut up."


	8. day and night

"Does it hurt?"

"I dunno, kinda," I mumble. The throw blanket on my couch is fraying a little, and I pick at the fluff already sticking to my pants. I raise my voice. "Hey, look in the cabinet under the sink."

There's some more rummaging from the bathroom. The door closes as Nines reappears down the hallway, a large white case in his hands. His hair is still wet from the rain outside at the bar, and yet somehow it's still in its swept-up, perfectly coiffed style, making me snort and look back down. He's apparently scanning the contents of the box, eyes narrowed in concentration, his LED circling blue. Having come to some sort of conclusion, he frowns.

"This first aid kit is horribly outdated." His voice is flat, almost disappointed, as he continues towards the living room. "These ibuprofen tablets," he picks a small pack out from the box and lifts it up for me to see, "expired in September of 2035. They will have to do for now."

I sigh at the hidden reprimand and sit back to watch as he lays the pills out on the coffee table in front of me, along with a roll of fresh gauze, cotton balls, medical tape, and a pack of thin, curved needles and plastic thread.

"Oh. Uh."

Nines leaves to go to the kitchen, and I turn, watching as he inspects the contents of my mug and then runs it under the tap. "Are the… are the sutures necessary?"

"It is the safest measure to proceed by." He opens the cupboards and finds a small bowl. "They will greatly decrease the chance of infection, and will accelerate the healing process."

"I mean, the medic didn't, uh, haha, stitch me up." I scratch the back of my neck.

"A preventative measure, Detective. Knowing your temperament and the nature of this case, you may find yourself injured again within the next few days, and I wouldn't want the wound to reopen." He returns and hands me the mug, setting the bowl down on the coffee table. "Drink some water and then take the painkillers. You appear to be moderately dehydrated." He reaches over to fold the jacket I'd tossed haphazardly on the couch and then sits down next to me.

"Okay, just-" I take a sip of the water, and set the mug back down. My heart is suddenly racing, and I berate myself for feeling so worried over a couple of sutures when I'd just gotten stabbed less than an hour ago. "Let's just... get it over with, then."

"Hmm. I didn't know you'd be afraid of anything, Ophelia." His voice is gentle as he extends my arm towards him and leans in close.

"Yeah, well. I don't like needles. I guess everyone has something." I look away as Nines peels back the tape on my shoulder. "What about you?"

"Phobias? I am an android. I have no fears."

I snort. "No. Really. You have to be afraid of something, right? It's what… I mean, that's what keeps us alive."

RK900 gives me a sideways glance and returns to pulling the gauze off of the wound. From this angle, his LED is directly in front of my face, and I watch the pulsing light, small arcs of yellow and blue circling his temple.

"You are alive, aren't you?"

"I suppose." He says, with some finality that means that that conversation is over. "At any length, let me treat your shoulder first. Turn towards me."

With the gauze off now, I see the wound clearly for the first time, away from the washed-out streetlights. It looks terrible, though I'm assuming most of it is just smeared blood. Some kind of red-opaque mess, with whatever gel the medic had given me, already coagulating on the edges. I look away again.

In my peripheral, Nines takes a cotton ball and dampens it with rubbing alcohol. "I'm just going to clean the area around the laceration. It might sting a little bit."

"Bring it on."

He dabs the cotton on the edges of the cut, wiping away at the dried blood until my clean skin shows again. Although he doesn't brush over the wound itself, the traces of evaporated alcohol still makes my flesh burn a little. Nines discards the cotton ball into the bowl and then hovers his hand over my shoulder, fingertips in the air just a few millimeters above the cut. His skin slowly deactivates, fingers scintillating blue and white.

"Oh." I say, dumbly. "Your hand's glowing."

He gives me a look. "I'm aware."

"No, I mean, what are you doing?" Though he's not touching me, I can still feel the warmth of his hand, of his skin.

"I am running a brief scan of the damaged cell structure in your muscles. It will help me determine the best way to suture the wound."

"Oh. Okay."

A few seconds later he lifts his hand, synthetic skin reappearing. "You shouldn't need more than five stitches. A very simple operation. Are you ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be, I guess."

He smiles faintly, obviously reading into the expression on my face. "Please relax, Ophelia. Everything is going to be okay."

The low cadence of his voice warms something inside of me, and I nod, taking in a deeper breath. I glance down. His hand nearly dwarfs my upper arm, fingertips closing in a gentle grip on my skin.

I still tense up when the needle first goes through my skin.

It's not a pleasant sensation, but whatever salve the medic placed on the gash earlier must have had some sort of numbing agent, because all I can really feel is this strange tugging sensation as RK900 loops the needle through my skin. I stare down hard at the ground, trying to ignore the feeling in my shoulder. In the background, I can just barely hear his artificial breathing, so I focus on that instead, forcing myself to time my breaths with his, creating some semblance of control.

In. Out. In. Out.

A good minute passes by. I find myself relaxing, just a little bit-looking down, surprised to see that my hands had clenched into fists on my thighs. I let go, smoothing out my palms on the couch.

In the corner of my eye, Nines slowly pulls the needle out of the final edge of the cut, and then ties off the thread, before dropping the excess material into the bowl.

His voice is quiet. "There. Five stitches. All done."

I realize that I'd been holding my breath again, and I slowly exhale. "Thank you."

Nines doesn't move. His hand has gone still against my upper arm. He's not looking up at me, no- his grey eyes fixed on the points of contact between his left hand and my arm as his LED hovers on yellow.

The expression on his face is unreadable.

"...Look, I'm sorry about… tonight."

His head tilts to the side, as if I'd just snapped him out of some strange train of thought, hand finally dropping from my forearm. "There's no need to be upset about that."

He sounds sincere enough, but I can't help but continue. "But-but I still am. Our partnership means a lot to me. Tonight was my fault-"

"Tonight was both of our faults. Your reaction was justified, and in the end… in the end, we discussed what happened and we came to an agreement. Let me put some gauze over that."

"And you're… okay with that?"

He blinks, tearing off a piece of tape. "With the gauze? Of course. It should stay on for the next 36 hours. And try not to bump into the area, either."

"No, I meant… this resolution, or whatever. God, I feel like I'm being dumb. Are you sure you're okay with everything that's happened?"

Nines leans in and presses the gauze over the cut, covering the edges with medical tape. "I'd advise you not to overthink my decisions, as vague as they may be. In other words, don't stress out about it, okay? You and I are both learning to be better every single day. That's the way things work. Always."

I squeeze my fingertips, hands dropping back into my lap. "Okay."

There's a comfortable sort of silence as Nines begins to clean up the remaining gauze and thread, organizing the medical kit.

"Darlene was wrong. You're good at that, you know?"

Nines looks up, busy inspecting the other contents of the kit. "Good at what?"

"Good at, y'know, being human." I shake my head. "Sorry, that's probably not how I should've phrased it."

His lips quirk up. "No need to apologize, Ophelia. And it's a very effective program. One that Connor unfortunately only has a prototype of."

I chuckle. "So, what, it helps you adjust to each environment?"

"Yes. Something of the sort." He closes the lid of the medical container and sets it aside.

"Does it require a lot of...I dunno, calculations on your part? Knowing how to act?"

"All programs require intensive calculations and analysis of primary data. But this runs merely as a background program."

Curiosity makes me blurt out my next question. "Are you adjusting to something right now?" I immediately shut my mouth, looking away at the ground. My hands return to picking at the throw blanket.

For a brief moment, something flashes across his face. When he speaks next, his voice is subdued. Almost confused. "No. I don't think so."

"Oh. Okay."

The room, quite suddenly, feels still. I find myself hyperfocused on the feeling of the couch beneath me. Embarrassment and awkwardness, disorienting and vibrant in my mind. There's less than a foot of distance between him and I, but somehow it feels wider. Farther away than I could ever imagine.

In the ensuing silence, the AC turns on.

"-Well, uh." I begin. "That's great. Thanks again. For the, uh, stitches, you know. I… Sorry to keep you this entire time. You should probably get going. I'll walk you to the door."

Nines doesn't seem to notice my fumble. I stand up, and he follows as I head over to unlock the door.

"So I'll see you tomorrow at eight?" I look at the clock on the wall. "Well, today, I guess."

"Yes." He opens the door and pauses, turning back towards me. "Take care, Ophelia."

"Thanks. You too. I…" A laugh escapes me. "Yeah. Good night."

"Good night."

I close the door behind him, and exhale loudly, suddenly feeling the ache of a long day sting into my legs. The couple of bruises on my sides-hell, the newly-stitched up cut on my shoulder are starting to throb again. I rub at my forehead. It's been too long of a day, really. And not long enough since my last injury a year back.

Having a partner is… different from what I'm used to. Having Nines as my partner is a whole other story entirely. He's unlike any human or android that I've ever met. But different doesn't mean bad. It'll be good company, having him around. Keeping myself more accountable. And he's been… kind.

Kind.

For good measure, I head back over to the couch to take another one of the expired painkillers, downing the remaining water in the process. I clean up the bowl of medical trash and fold the blanket throw, feeling restless and untethered in this midnight darkness, in the dull red heat in my shoulder and the oncoming headache. My bedroom is calling to me with its soft, comforting darkness, but instead I head to the window and pull the curtains aside.

Below, on the street, RK900 exits the door to my apartment complex, LED a particle of bright blue in the 12 AM darkness. There's already a taxi waiting for him. He gets into it and leaves.

And it's still raining.

I let the curtains fall back into place.


End file.
